


Love's Like a Melody

by Lucky107



Series: A Red, Red Rose [13]
Category: Hell on Wheels (TV)
Genre: 19th Century, Canon Divergence, Companionship, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fix-It, New Beginnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 16:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10391454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucky107/pseuds/Lucky107
Summary: It's rough going for two fugitives with little trade experience.[Season 4]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose - Susan Craig Winsberg - 1995

San Francisco isn't so different from Boston, despite the two thousand mile gap.

It marks another new beginning that brings with it another struggle; without a penny to their name, their next meal becomes a daily concern that sometimes just isn't fulfilled.  Most of the remaining medication was sold upon reaching the bay, but that money goes to keeping this one-room roof over their heads while they fight for employment.

Steamboats and train cars bring in hundreds of new faces each day to keep up with the urban sprawl and it's rough going for two fugitives with little trade experience.

Sean's gone to spend the evening up at Irish Hill; the boys over that end put on a good Saturday show of blood sport for next to nothing.  Bonnie sweeps her hair aside and begins to unbutton her blouse, eager to turn in early in preparation for another early morning, when the door opens at her back.  A quick glance reveals Sean standing in the doorway wearing that handsomely boyish grin.

He hasn't been gone two minutes, but he relieves himself of his cap and coat at the door before capturing Bonnie's middle in an embrace from behind.  He's seemingly unaware of her current state of undress as he relays, "You did it, Bonnie!  You's got the job!"

"I-I do?"  Bonnie asks with an obvious hint of skepticism.

It was Sean's idea that Bonnie write to a family over on Nob Hill in search of a nanny.  A long shot, she knew, because her background and recent work experience was anything but domestic.  When nearly a week went by without word from the Crocker family, Bonnie had written the opportunity off as a lost cause.

Now, Sean's pressing the opened letter into her hands and insisting that this is her golden ticket.  It's been years since Bonnie Mae's read a letter, but she can make out the most important _I write to congratulate you..._ salutation.

She really did get the job.

"Christ, Sean," she relents, turning herself around in his arms so that she might return his embrace.  "We might just be able'a put _food_ on that table this week."

"An' a chair to sit in," Sean teases and he takes her face in his hands before he gives her a chaste kiss.

\- - -

Bonnie Mae rocks herself and the youngest of the Crocker girls in the old wooden rocking chair as she puts the last stitch in her most recent creation.  Five-year-old Amy is fast asleep in her lap as Bonnie hums herself an old Scottish tune - the same tune her mother once hummed to her late at night - and she fails to notice the bedroom door open.

"Before you go, Bonnie, feel free to help yourself to tonight's left-overs in the kitchen.  You've been—" Mrs. Crocker's train of thought derails when she sees the plush toy in Bonnie's hand.  "So it _is_ you..."

"Aye," she confirms, her voice soft as to not wake the fussy Amy.  She passes the crude-looking plush feline to Mrs. Crocker, who takes a moment to appreciate the fine needlework.  "Got this one done just in the nick of time; I's gonna leave it for Amy t'night, _if_ you don't mind, ma'am."

"Not at all," Mrs. Crocker says.  "You do this sort of thing often?"

Bonnie shakes her head as she puts Amy to bed.  "No, ma'am, only a couple months now.  Lost one similar some time ago an' I's just tryin'a make an acceptable substitute."

Silence lingers between them as Mrs. Crocker sits on her daughter's bedside and Bonnie pulls her coat around her shoulders.  As she prepares to see herself out for the night, Mrs. Crocker places the plush toy by her daughter's pillow and says, "Good night, Bonnie."

 

By the time Bonnie makes it home from Nob Hill, the scraps of food from the Crockers' kitchen is cold.  She closes the door at her back and enters the dimly-lit dwelling, where Sean has fallen asleep at the empty table for the third night in a row.  Bonnie busies herself around him, as quite as a mouse, in an effort to improve the presentation of the meal, but little can be done to salvage it.

Eventually the smell alone rouses Sean.  "... Bonnie Mae?"

"Aye," she says, her voice but a whisper, and she places the plate down before him.  "Food's cold an' stale by now, but it's the best I can do with these late nights I's keepin' for the Crockers."

Sean smiles a weary smile and gestures to the meal.  "You steal this for me?"

"Mrs. Crocker let me at it," she relents.  "I's not been much of a woman to you these past few months, with these late nights and little to show for 'em, an' I's sorry for that.  The leftovers of the Crockers' dinner's the best I can do right now."

"If it's good enough for them, it's good enough for me."

Silence blankets the one-room apartment as Sean picks at the cold plate of food and Bonnie tries to busy herself by readying for bed.  "Mrs. Crocker caught me makin' one of them cats today."

"Aye?"  Sean asks, too tired to even feign interest.  "She ain't gonna fire you, is she?"

"Of course not," Bonnie assures.  "I's been given 'em to the kids as I finish 'em an' she seemed awful surprised that I was makin' 'em, probably on account of me finger.  Still can't seem to get 'im right, though, an' I—"

As Bonnie loses herself to the trivial details of her personal quest, the gears in Sean's groggy mind begin to turn.  If the children at the Crocker household have taken an interest in the toys Bonnie makes, there might just be a window of opportunity there.  "Bonnie, you ever think 'bout goin' into business?"

"Business?"  She looks skeptical.  "I can barely stitch a few pieces of fabric together, let alone a string of _numbers_."

"Let _me_ handle the numbers," Sean assures, reaching across the table to take Bonnie's hands.  Those once smooth and boyish hands of his have become calloused and hard from working at the mill, but the prospect of getting out of the labor trade livens him right up.  " _You_ just need to keep makin' 'em toys."

\- - -

It's been five months since Bonnie and Sean found themselves in a spacious two-room flat out of the tenements and they finally have themselves a place to call _home_.

The flat is modest, but the oak wood table now seats four in matching chairs and garners a hand-knit doily.  In the warmer months, the off-white ceramic centerpiece even hosts a bouquet of wildflowers.  The bed is no longer just a rock-hard mattress to raise them off the floor, but four bedposts and a goose feather bed.

"Don't hold your breath, Bonnie," Sean chides as his pull on her corset becomes lax.  "Christ, don't be uncomfortable for this - it's a long ride to Chicago."

"It's _proper_ ," Bonnie insists.

"You sound just like me ma," he recalls, but he pulls the corset tighter - snugger - around Bonnie's waist before lacing up the back to hold the fit in place.

Somewhere along the way, Bonnie Mae had left the Crocker family to go into business with Sean full-time.  It was a slow start, and she often did much of her needlework between chores at the Crocker residence early on, but for the past month and a half the pair have been completely self-sufficient.

Sean is positively glowing.

"You be glad I _ain't_ your ma," Bonnie jests and, just as he finishes lacing her up, she reaches for her worn pair of evening gloves.

Before she's able to put them on, however, Sean envelopes her lamed hand in his and pleads, "Wait."

"Sean—"

"I want you to marry me, Bonnie Mae MacLeod," he insists in Sean's traditionally abrupt fashion.  "Not for money or for status, but for the kindness - the friendship - you's bestowed.  I never would'a asked this of you four years ago, but for better or worse you's been the only good thing to come of me life in America."

It takes a moment for Bonnie to digest what Sean is even saying and, though she doesn't tear up the way she once thought she might if a man asked for her hand in marriage, her face splits in a grin.  Given their closeness over the past few months, it seems the most logical next step and yet it catches Bonnie completely off-guard.  There is only one possible answer now.

Bonnie throws her arms around Sean's neck with the enthusiasm of a child and says, "I intend'a spend the rest of me life with you, Mr. McGinnes."


End file.
